


What Color Are They?

by pornographicrainbowlegs



Series: Infliction [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Wingfic, Wings, brief wee!chesters, saying yes to the devil, very very very brief non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornographicrainbowlegs/pseuds/pornographicrainbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester has a gift from the devil that he doesn't want.</p><p>AKA - My interpretation of wing!Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What color are your wings?” Sam asked with a crayon held in his pudgy hand. The two were coloring in the booth of a diner somewhere of I-94. John had taken a stop at the restroom after settling his boys down.

“What?” Dean responded, looking up from the maze on the back of the kids menu.

“Your wings,” Sammy reiterated. Sam cannot remember a time he didn’t have his wings. They don’t reflect in mirrors but he can see them when he looks over his shoulders. He can feel them as if they are solid objects, but anything he touches with them flows through as if they are ghostly appendages. They look smoky to him, as if they cannot decide whether they’re gaseous or solid. They don’t feel greasy, though he’s never washed them. “Mine are silver.”

“Shh, Sammy!” he squeaked. “Don’t say those things!” Dean wasn’t sure if Sammy could be telling the truth about having wings, but he was old enough to realize that saying such things wasn’t wise around a man like their father.

“Okay,” Sam shrugged and went back to coloring in the little clip art style fruit. “Can I borrow your blue?” 

Sam doesn’t start exploring his wings until the summer he leaves for Stanford, when he finally isn’t afraid of his father stumbling upon his secret. For most of his life, they were just something he realized were a part of him, something that would extend wide out when he’d stretch his arms when getting out of bed or that would feel intriguingly wispy when he slid his shirts over his back.

But he isn’t sure how they’re useful. He hasn’t tried to fly with them for fear of being seen. What else are wings good for, though? Still, they don’t get in the way of anything, so he lives with them silently. He’s not sure what possessed him to start examining them.

But here he is, in front of his bathroom mirror, trying so hard to make them corporal. He has no idea how, but it must be instinctual on some level if it is even possible. He tries for five minutes before giving up.

The next day he tries again, but gives up much sooner.

After a week of trying, he thinks of giving up permanently. Even if he could get them to be corporal, anyone who would see them would think he’s a freak. What was the point?

But trying to get them visible feels like a terrible case of poison ivy – it must be scratched. Over a month of exhausting attempts, he finally sees them in the mirror. It only lasts a second, as his concentration is entirely shot for the elation that his patience and perseverance has paid off. He tries once more immediately, but the flicker doesn’t happen again.

Though now that he knows it’s possible, he feels vindicated in his efforts, even though they leave him with headaches the size of New York.

It takes nearly a year of struggling to work up to keeping his wings visible for more than fleeting moments. Though with his wings now physical to the world brings new challenges. Physicality being that challenge. Previously, he’d always lived his life as if the wings didn’t exist because for all intents and purpose, they didn’t. They were ghostly and wispy and flowed through objects. But physical wings means bumping into walls, and he’s ripped more than a few shirts before he realizing wings and clothing didn’t mix.

Also, in their corporal state, they can get dirty. And he can only clean them when they are corporal. Showering is strenuous. The bathroom in his apartment isn’t made for someone of his stature, and adding wings make it beyond cramped in the tiny tub.

He’s taken to the locker room off the track field, but he has to be especially careful and only go very late at night for fear of being caught. He doesn’t turn them on very often once he gets the hang of how to do it for that reason. It is too risky if anyone were to see them. 

But after meeting, getting to know, and eventually falling in love with Jess, Sam thinks long and hard about what those risks actually are and whether he should chance showing her.

The unexpected, and not entirely welcome, surprise visit from Dean solidifies his decision.

“Hey. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll be back in time, I promise.” Sam steadies himself before kissing her on the cheek. He thinks about just showing her there, having the conversation and then leaving with Dean. But it doesn’t seem fair to Jess. This wouldn’t be the type of conversation that would only take a few minutes.

“At least tell me where you’re going,” she calls after him.

The extended road trip with Dean is enough to shove the wings back to where they belonged – as horrid, wispy hallucinations.


	2. Chapter 2

“My plans for you, Sammy. You… and all the children like you,” the demon speaks through their father’s mouth to the room at large before getting quite up close and personal. “Though no one is quite like you, huh? Isn’t that right, Sammy Boy?” There is a pause and Yellow Eyes glances just to the left of Sam’s head, then just to the right. “Do you even know how to fly yet, boy?” he asks with disdain dripping from every word. “I’m beginning to think He put all his eggs in the wrong basket.”

Sam clenches his jaw so hard he can hear his teeth beginning to creek with strain. “You’re a freak, Sam, a freak that doesn’t even know his full potential,” the demon addressing the room again.

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can’t stand the monologing,” Dean cuts in uninterestedly.

Dean and his smart mouth, Sam scolds inwardly. Sam has to strain to hear what his brother is saying, though he knows it’s bad. He knows his brother is only doing this to draw attention away from Sam. He knows Dean is just self sacrificing enough to think he deserves this. And when Yellow Eyes begins to torture Dean, Sam screams and tries to grab some of that attention back. His brother doesn’t deserve this.

And then his father briefly gathers control of the demon, and Sam shoots him in the leg. He goes immediately to his brothers’ side. “Dean? Dean, hey? Oh god,” he panics, “you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He’s briefly calculating whether he can help his brother with the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, or whether a hospital visit is necessary, before his brother interrupts his thoughts.

“Where’s dad?” he asks, weakly.

“He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean,” Sammy tries to soothe.

“Go check on him.”

“Dean –”

“Go check on him,” he reiterates only slightly more forcefully.

And just as Sam reaches his father’s side, the man regains control over his body. He’s screaming and shouting at Sam to kill him. Sam lifts the gun, taking aim but cannot make the final shot. The demon smiles in John’s body, leveling those nasty yellow eyes right on the tip of where Sam knows his wings are. “Boy, you best start using that gift He gave you. He’ll want you an expert when He takes you for a ride.” And then black smoke is pouring out of John’s mouth, roaring loudly before seeping through the floor boards and it’s over.

Sam doesn’t know who this _He_ is, but _He_ can have this abomination and take it straight to hell.


	3. Chapter 3

“They were a gift, Sam. I would never lie to you,” Lucifer tries to pacify next to Sam on the bed. The devil runs a hand down the translucent wings that slowly gather more solidity the longer the devil plays.

“Stop it.”

“They’re non-returnable, Sammy,” the devil hisses.

“Please,” Sam begs. “I don’t want them, please.”

“They’re a perfect fit for me, baby, if you’d just say yes.”

Sam jerks awake from the dream, feeling all sorts of disoriented. Dean is lying on the bed closest to the door, and the interior of the room looks the same as it had when Sam went to bed. He takes a deep, calming breath, gathering himself before his inadvertent panic wakes his brother.

Sam runs a hand down his face. A glass of water then back to bed, he compromises with himself. He stands and adjusts the pants on his hips, walking up to the bathroom counter. He reaches for the single serving plastic cup and fills it with water. He brings the cup to his lips and his eyes glance in the mirror, his wings are showing in all their silvery glory, practically glowing.

He drops the cup before he can react not to, and Dean startles awake. “Sammy?” Dean mumbles, though he’s clearly more awake than he sounds for only a second later, there’s the cocking of a gun.

“I’m fine, sorry,” Sam mumbles back, trying to sound sleepy and forgivable. He concentrates really hard to conceal his wings again. He’s never had to concentrate to hide them. In fact, it was always just the opposite. It almost aches when he’s finally gotten them hidden and steps back in the main part of the room.

“You okay?” Dean inquires.

“Yeah,” Sam dismisses.


	4. Chapter 4

“I want to say ‘yes’.”

Lucifer smiles devilishly and narrows his eyes on his chosen vessel. “A fiddle of gold against your soul says I’m better than you,” he calmly gravels out in a mockingly sing-song voice.

Sam nods his assertion. There’s a bright light, and Sam’s shields his eyes against it before suddenly it feels he’s filled to the brim in his brain as everything slowly whorls into focus. The plug runs down his throat and through his finger tips, down to his toes and back up to his chest. It feels like it should burn, like he wants to burn from the inside out. But it isn’t painful, and it isn’t hot. Sam lets it all happen, calmly waiting out the devil for his turn, for his battle to start.

Then, there’s a twitch against his shoulder blades and Sam knows his wings have come corporal. It sets off a panic in Sam he didn’t know he could have. He feels his soul start to wriggle against the grace that now wraps around it, trying to find a hole, trying to find a chink in the armor. “Turn them off!” he feels himself shouting. “Turn them off!”

“Oh, Sammy, calm yourself.” It’s as if Lucifer is wrapping his arms around Sam, calming and quieting him like a mother to a child. “It will be all right, it will all be okay,” he’s hushing. “They’re a gift, a precious gift meant to be used. They look beautiful on you. You are not a freak.”

Sam withdraws into his soul, ignoring Lucifer’s pacification. And, more importantly, ignoring the shocked and horrified look Dean levels on the wings that have appeared on his frame.

Lucifer stands tall, nods at Dean. “I told you, this would always happen in Detroit.” Lucifer disappears, taking Sammy with him.


End file.
